Poor Little Rich Boy
by alltheangelsinheaven
Summary: "Let's set the record straight early: whatever you thought about me, you were wrong." RATED M FOR psychopathic Reno,  later  gore, other violence, death, sex, possibly drugs, sexy smiles and alcohol.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer! **_I make no profit, and I do not own the characters. Except the obvious ones, like Reno's parents. Duh. *rolls eyes*_

**Summary! **_"The story of how I was misunderstood and the resulting repercussions which increased the death toll in Midgar by 18%."_

**Warnings! RATED M FOR **_psychopathic Reno, later gore, other violence, death, sex, possibly drugs, sexy smiles and alcohol._

**I'm lazy, so the chapters will be short. I have no beta, so if you see a mistake and can be bothered, please let me know!**

**R & R - enjoy! (hopefully)**

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><p>I didn't start out being poor. In all honesty, I started out my life as the son of a successful business man- I wanted for nothing. I wasn't abandoned by my parents when I was five, or six, or whatever you've heard. They weren't killed, leaving me with nothing. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed by their ridiculous refusal to die though, in fact it irritated me to no end.<p>

Now, because I'm not brain-dead, I'm aware of what you must be thinking. Oh, you're imagining the worst of the worst situations; I'm already painted in your minds as the victim of this story. The things that must be running through your minds- Reno, hated by both his parents. Reno, raped by his father. Reno, beaten by his father, and/or mother. Reno, starved. Reno, stunningly gifted yet held back by jealous adult-figures. Reno, helpless, defenseless, weak and pathetic.

I almost feel sorry for myself.

But you're all wrong- each and every one of you. I'll be straight with you- and this is somewhat of an accomplishment on my behalf. I've woven many a story to the people around me, and it's not often that they will find they share the same version of my oh-so-mysterious life story, although most of them agree I probably came from the slums (which is not entirely wrong) and that I probably had to either become a thug or sell my body on the streets to survive (both of which, I will admit, are entirely plausible, and yet both are mostly wrong. But we'll get to that later).

I don't deliberately hide my past though. Doesn't everyone want their background to sound more or less impressive? Reno the street-rat, the thug who has been murdering since he was old enough to walk. Rude might not have believed that version, but hey, it sounds impressive, right? On the streets it kept me safe most nights. But then there's Reno, the poor abandoned orphan who was forced to work in a brothel in Don Corneo's sector, physically weak and somewhat vertically challenged, intelligent but downtrodden. This card has often earned me the upper-hand in a fight- you don't need to tell someone your history, you just need to wear it around you like an extra coat.

The opposition take one look at me and instantly relax, because I'm small, I make no eye-contact, I keep my limbs close to my body and I flinch at every loud noise.I'm not a threat, how could I be? (or so they think until I carve up their throats with a piece of stone I found lying on the ground- they'll never think that way about me again. Or about anything for that matter).

But I suppose there comes a time and a place (that being here and now) that one realizes (myself being alone and therefore being one) that they finally have no reason not to tell the truth anymore (because what's the point in lying to yourself this late in the game?).

And so, as cliched as it sounds, tonight I find myself alone, caught in the sort of situation which is both utterly boring but at the same time mentally exhausting. I won't tell you what's going on- I would hate to spoil the surprise, but suffice to say, at this stage, I literally have absolutely nothing better to do than explain to you how everybody got me so wrong, and still managed to think they had me

all

worked

out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer!** _I make no profit, and I do not own the characters. Except the obvious ones, e.g. Reno's parents. Duh. *rolls eyes*_

**Summary!** _"Let's set the record straight early. Whatever you thought about me, you were wrong._"

**Warnings! **RATED M FOR_ psychopathic Reno, later gore, other violence, death, sex, possibly drugs, sexy smiles and alcohol._

**Is this a good time to mention that this story is basically alternate universe since I know no specific's of the timelines of FFVII and have therefore made up my own stuff? :D feel free to leave me suggestions or something...**

**R & R - enjoy! (hopefully)**

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><p>I'm new to all this 'sharing truthful life-stories' crap, so bear with me. Let's start with the boring stuff.<p>

My Mother's maiden name was Eleanor Grash - daughter of Perry Grash; a wealthy widower who made his living and reputation by overseeing the major trading routes between every continent on Gaia. Eleanor - so I am told - was renowned for her beauty, but was even more infamous for her refusal to marry any of the wealthy suitors whom her father introduced to her on a regular basis. Back in Eleanor's day, it was considered improper, almost vulgar, for a young woman to still be single once she passed the age of 25. Such a woman was unguarded, unprotected, and it was highly likely that she was sleeping with a whole lot of other, less dignified people.

To her fathers despair, it seemed inevitable that his daughter would be labeled a hussy for the rest of her short, albeit promiscuous life. If she didn't produce an heir, Daddy's precious empire would be left without a leader, and Eleanor Grash would quite probably drop off the face of the earth.

In his desperation, Perry Grash went behind his daughters back to organize a meeting with one last suitor, Frank, his final hope. Frank met Eleanor discretely in a club one night, bought her a drink and complimented her unique hair style. Eight months later, Frank and Eleanor were married and spent a passionate night together celebrating their honey-moon - regretfully, this was also the very night I was conceived.

The only reason I am aware of this, was that one night, when I was probably about six or seven, my mother decided it would be appropriate to explain to me that she and Frank had a terrible sex life, and after their honey-moon experience, he had 'stayed limp for months'. She may have loved me in some way, but this woman, in my own professional opinion, should never have been allowed to reproduce.

Frank's extended name was Franklin-William Kyle Masterdon. He was the wealthy son of one of Perry's business associates. Eleanor always claimed (when he wasn't around) that she only married him because he promised to let her do as she pleased, as long as she bore him a child. Occasionally she would also claim (in a loud and exaggerated voice, and only when he was within earshot) that she married him for his charming personality.

I never doubted which version held more truth.

Despite my irrational - yet intense - dislike of both my parents, I find it easy to admit to the fact that it was my father who I hated the most.

Frank was never the easiest man to live with. While Eleanor was pregnant, he would lock her in her room for days at a time to ensure that she wasn't over-stressing her body.

Looking back objectively, I don't think it ever occurred to him that being locked in a room somewhere - with food and water handed over by tray every few hours - might be just as damaging in the psychological department (and about fifty million times more boring, trust me… I know this from experience) as anything else she may have otherwise done physically.

Once I was born, he began hiring nannies from a special agency above the Plate, cycling through a new one every month or two. Eleanor - the woman who was supposed to be my mother, was only allowed to visit me every Monday, Friday and Sunday.

I suppose it would be fair to say that I never had any great opportunity to grow close to anyone, because the only constant figures in my life were my mother and father - Eleanor and Frank Masterdon.

Frank was a more constant visitor than Eleanor - but instead of growing more fond of him, I grew to build a rather astonishing animosity towards him.

Now, before I let your imaginations run away with you, I'll quietly point out in the background that I did say I would tell the truth this time. So no. Frank never did an awful lot to make me hate him. Not physically, not even really mentally. I just… did.

Frank would visit me most evenings in my room. I had a table in there with chairs - actually I had almost everything I could want from _outside_ my room on the _inside_ - except the thing I wanted most, which was to _be_ outside - and a lock on the door to which he had the only key. We often played board games.

My favourite board game was snakes and ladders, and Franks favourite board game was monopoly. Sometimes we played chess too, but only when I wanted Frank to feel stupid by beating him, because he was absolutely terrible at it.

Frank would sometimes try and talk to me about my day, but, well. The conversation was never terribly interesting on my end (as you can imagine). One day, Frank and I were playing snakes and ladders, and I landed a number which sent me back a fair number of spaces. I don't remember the exact number, because it wasn't really important. What was important was that Frank laughed.

Frank had a deep, dry laugh, that once-upon-a-time would have been attractive to women (such as my mother), but when I heard it, at the arguable age of possibly-10, it stirred something wild in me - something wild and dangerous, which until that moment, had been sleeping quite happily in the back of my mind.

It was hate.

A sudden, irrational, inexplicable and undeniable rush of extreme hatred towards Frank flowered inside me, so violently that I stood up - knocking my chair over backwards - and attempted to beat Frank over the head with the game board until he died.

Hey… you can't blame me. How was I meant to know that would hardly hurt?

Unfortunately my previous very-short-and-widely-spaced-but-regular visits to the outside world were cut off, and a very angry Frank denied me food for several days, if I recall correctly.

Amidst the hunger-pangs, headaches and wooziness, I took careful time thinking about my actions while lying on the floor (or table or bed) of my room, and came to the conclusion that people didn't normally try to kill their fathers for doing better than them at snakes and ladders.

Once I had realised this, everything became like a game to me. It was the 'hide your anger and taunt your father without him realising it or being able to do anything about it ha-ha' game, and I was the best (and only) player around. Eleanor had complained bitterly to Frank for weeks about locking me up so often, and so I was allowed out of my room whenever I pleased - as long as I did not leave the apartment.

Of course, after my little episode, Frank never trusted me again. He triple padlocked the only door from the apartment - as well as adding an electronic lock, for which only he knew the password. I retaliated against my lack of freedom in my own little way, although not without Frank's suspicion. Every time his keys disappeared from the table, every time his milk expired the day after he bought it, every time the plumbing clogged and the floor outside his bathroom was soaked in sewerage for hours, it was me he blamed first.

There was never any proof of course, and Frank would eventually give up and turn somewhere else to lay blame - but there was always that suspicious glint in his eye when he caught me doing something that he considered meant I was 'up to no good'.

I suppose I didn't really help matters much when I found out the Frank was suffering from a mental disorder; his mind was slowly degrading, his memories were fading and his behaviour worsening. Now - being only fourteen years of age - I found it exciting ammunition, and I used it to make his life a living hell.

Over the next year and a half, I spent every moment possible feeding his degradation, wearing him down to the bone. One evening late in October, I took an opportunity to slip hallucinogenic drugs into his coffee - although he technically had that one coming. If he wasn't prepared to use them, then why were they hidden under his bed? He didn't suspect a thing - not even when he started seeing pink elephants.

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><p>"<em>Reno! Reno, come here won't you? Come to Daddy…" Frank giggled, stretching out on his comfortable recliner. Reno watched him from the doorway to the kitchen, hoping he would just finish his tea and go to sleep. "Reno?" the small boy gulped involuntarily as Frank caught sight of him. He didn't know, did he? He couldn't. There was no way he could know. Look at the man, he was as high as a kite. But there was no avoiding him now - no. He'd been caught watching his handiwork unfold. <em>

"_Coming, Frank." Frank hated it when Reno refused to call him 'Daddy'. But calling him 'Daddy' was like calling him 'Father', and it implied something that Frank had somewhat failed to be over the years. Frank frowned a little as Reno approached, stepping nimbly over the bottle of spilt anxiety medication on the carpet. _

"_Wassat boy? Nothin', that's what." Answering his own question, Frank smiled in satisfaction and petted his lap in what he probably assumed was a fatherly gesture. When Reno hesitated Frank grabbed his wrist tightly, impatiently pulling him down and tapped the side of his head._

"_Now, see here little Reno. I'm going to tell you some really important things now, alright?" _

"_Sure, Fra- Daddy," Reno swiftly changed tracks when Frank tightened his grip on his son's arm. _

"_Good. Pay very close attention now, y'hear?" _

_An hour later - safe in the confines of his room - Reno found himself meticulously well versed on the behaviour and feeding habits of the pink elephants that inhabited his living room. He lowered himself onto his bed quietly, listening intently for signs of what was happening beyond his doors. _

_Reno had escaped Frank just in time - he could hear his mother as she returned home from a night out with her friends. Eleanor's first sight was graced by the blubbering man on the coffee table, slobbering happily to himself about why caterpillar dung should be used for smoking. _

_There was no shouting that night, mostly because Frank was stoned out of his mind, but Reno had no doubt that the next day would be full of angry parentage and suspicious glances in his direction. He had to admit, he may have gone too far with his last joke- not because it was inappropriate, but because it increased the likelihood that he would be caught and punished by at least 30%. Already he stood at a risky 40% chance of rough accusation, and he wouldn't be able to deny them if they went so far as to gather actual evidence against him. Reno's only hope was that his mother knew about the rest of Frank's stash beneath the mattress in the room they usually shared, and would act under the assumption that Frank had given in to temptation and stress. _

_The amount of medication he was on these days - was it so hard to believe that Frank might fall down that slippery slope? _

_Reno shifted uncomfortably on his queen-sized bed, turning on his side and adjusting the pillow to a more comfortable position. The darkness of the room felt like an enveloping blanket of safety. This was where he belonged, in the darkness which took no prisoners and had no mercy. _

_No matter where he was, he would be able to feel safe as long as he had this shadow to hide beneath. _

_A sudden thought occurred to Reno; he was so taken by it that he sat up on his bed excitedly and hugged a pillow to his chest. Why shouldn't he be able to leave this place and live somewhere else entirely? This apartment building which he had known his entire life - which he had barely stepped outside of in fifteen years - was like a prison to him. He was his fathers pet - to be kept inside and protected and groomed and sheltered until the day one of them died. Reno shuddered at the thought of spending the rest of his life in the eight-roomed apartment, and felt a sudden flare of anger towards Eleanor. _

_Eleanor could leave whenever she wanted, just like Frank. But she wasn't Frank. She was supposed to be a prisoner too - why was he the only one stuck here? Reno scowled._

_If she _really_ loved him, she would stay and suffer with him in his 'jar' of existence. _

_He hated this place. He hated hated hated hated _hated _this place and he _hated _his mother and his father and this stupid place and _everything_ he hated it all he hated- _

"_Argh!" Reno flung his pillow at the opposite wall in frustration, the volcano of fury inside him threatening to spill over and boil him alive. He fell back on his bed, hands over his eyes, and counted to ten in his mind. The lava cooled, and became calm rock. He breathed slowly in time with his counting. _

_Yes, he would have to leave - but not without having a little fun first. Frank was a nuisance, he would have to go. And Eleanor? She should have loved him more. _

_Yes. They would both need to be dealt with._

_Reno's lips curved into a smile, as he silently planned out exactly how _

_everything _

_was _

_going _

_to _

_end._

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><p><em><strong>thanks for reading, feel free to review. ^_^<strong>_


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